#visceral imagery HAD TO DRAW IT

[mothmothwoth]

underrated moment where they looked at each others faces half covered by the rose ramón put down and giggled,, it was just so sweet truly the distillation of them being stupid

also have extra comic for the image but it’s a sketch bc I’m very hungry

[creatively-cosmic]

i wanted to draw something different today soooo. i went n scrounged up a buncha pokepastas that ive read/pokepasta ocs ive seen around recently (mostly via mutuals)! ill tag creators and link sources under the cut, and ramble a little abt my thoughts... ^^

if anyone wants me to untag or remove their stuff from this btw let me know i didnt ask i kinda just. started doodling.

also half of yall i either never followed or only Just did i need 2 remedy that. ive been observing yalls stuff from a distance i keep forgetting to Press the Fucking Button is all

Your Friend Silver (Elias) by @uuberwachen ! this was such an INSANELYYY well written story and it stuck with me for DAYS. it really slots in the space in my mind that holds the classics and the twists and stuff with it genuinely got me. i cant recommend it enough if anyone who sees it hasnt read it yet. i got so excited when i saw a dedicated ask blog went up. i wish i werent scared of sending in questions to those things

Pixel Blue: 3DS VIRTUAL CONSOLE (2016) by @calybunz ! ahhh this was such a cool one to read! id see updates on it incidentally n i can tell a lot of work went into it- it was definitely worth it! its well written with a lot of heart.. maybe im just a sucker for stories that focus on a sympathetic blue.. the ending made me so SAD dude what the fuck. though my favorite parts were probably the dream sequences- godd the imagery of it all was fantastic!

Nuzlight (Mia) at @nuzlight-mia ! this is one i dont know much about yet, but her personality and design really captivated me when i first saw her! she seems like such a sweetheart and i look forward to getting to see more of her :3 i feel so bad for her situation.. the story n concept are all so interesting!

Missing Numbers (Green) at @themissingnumbers ... is our thing but green is hells (@hells1nfern0 ) dude that i have no sway in so. whatever. im unwell about him im excited for more to be revealed abt him :] i cant really say more than that since i know his secrets

FIRE RED FREE DOWNLOAD (Infected/Abandoned RED) by @aibouart ... another one i saw the design of first and was just IMMEDIATELY struck by. i love when stories twist in-universe things that're generally treated as normal and mundane and use its horror potential! a parasect parasite outbreak where the protagonist gets infected by that and ends up full of mushrooms...? thats the kinda shit i love to see >:)

Jack by @sparklingdemon ! cool ass design ive been wanting to draw and a cool concept to go with- the creepyblack protagonist as a grinning-reaper type where the ghost is an extension of him rules. i also loveee when designs utilize the fossil missingno stuff!! kabutops's arms lend themselves REALLY well to being a scythe

Glitchy Red: Retold by @lycankeyy / @glitchyred (idk which blog youd rather have tagged sorry). so i saw this when the official ao3 repost went up or got mentioned or something and it. really. resonated with me. like its hard to put my thoughts into coherent words, other than i had to just. Lay Down for the rest of the night after reading it and just feel whatever emotions struck me. it cut really deep but honestly- that's just fantastic. it's not often that i read something that makes me feel as viscerally as this rewrite did, and i have nothing but adoration for it because of that (we do have the plural bias which doesnt help regarding this lol). in my mind this is the definitive version of glitchy red.

Sanctuary AU (Aster) by @possiblyfunny . ANYWAYS ON A LIGHTER NOTE i fucking love aster more than i can put into words. given we get tagged in almost every piece of him that goes up its always such a delight to see and learn more about him! id been planning to draw him for months at this point but only just got around to it haha -v-" i look forward to seeing more abt the sanctuary au! please continue to tag me in those posts idc if it includes my guys or not i just care so much abt it

[elwenyere]

Crafting Comments on Fics

So with Comment Fest approaching - and with the possibility of bot-generated comments undermining the value of reader-writer engagement - I thought it might be helpful to provide a short explanation of some different approaches I use in crafting comments, in order to identify a few places to get started for anyone who has wanted to leave more (or more detailed) comments but who feels unsure how to get going. 

This is far from an exhaustive list, and the categories are designed to allow for a mix-and-match construction with varying levels of development (from basic to more elaborate). At the heart of it, I think of commenting as a practice of paying attention to what I notice in a story and then crafting language to share those observations with the writer. So each of these categories starts from something we might notice when we read.

1. Affect: how the fic affected you/made you feel

This is a great place to start if commenting feels intimidating, because you’re drawing from your own emotional responses. A basic template might be something like “_____ made me ________.” You can pick a particular moment (the scene with the tooka infestation, the kiss in the Denny’s parking lot, the moment we realize character x was dead the whole time, etc.) or focus on the fic as a whole; and you can describe the effect in simple terms (made me cry, smile, laugh, feel soft, etc.) or extravagant ones (made me want to roll myself into the sea, made me feel like I had ascended to a new astral plane, shook me so deeply it registered a 10.3 on the Richter scale). The idea is to take one or more responses you had to the fic and let the writer know what they were/what about the story produced them. 

2. Memory: what from the fic has stuck with you

If a story has an especially strong effect on you, you might also let the author know what particular moments, lines, or images are going to linger in your mind after you finish reading. After identifying the detail(s) you want to flag (if you were going to bookmark this fic with a note to remind Future You which one it is, what image or scene or plot premise or line of dialogue would go in the “the one with the ___________” slot?), you can describe the way it’s sticking with you in general terms (I’m still thinking about it, chewing on it, rotating it like a Hot Pocket in a microwave), or you can point to some of the reasons why it’s sticking with you (it captures character x’s whole deal so well, it reminds me of y moment in the film/tv show/comic, it crystallizes a larger theme in the story so effectively). 

3. Appreciation: what in the fic seems beautiful, artful, striking

In this approach you’re giving a writer a sense of what stood out to you aesthetically about the story: the moments that made you feel like “put a frame around that fucker because I want to keep staring at it.” This category can feel tricky because there might be terminology specific to the form that we’re not familiar with, so it can feel hard to describe what exactly makes a moment strike us as well-crafted. But we might think about the appreciation approach as having a basic template: “_____ is so ________.” The first slot can be either general (the whole story, a larger scene, the way the author writes dialogue or description or a major character) or very specific (copying and pasting a particular line or passage, identifying a pattern of imagery, pointing out the way the author narrates a specific kind of experience). And the second slot can be just one adjective (beautiful, visceral, unsettling, powerful, stunning, lyrical) or a more elaborate evaluation (so effective at conveying emotions, so hard-hitting after the slow build-up, so vivid I feel like I’m actually there). 

4. Discovery: what the fic showed you/made you think about

Sometimes you read a fic that makes you think about the media/the ship/the characters in a new way, and that’s a really powerful thing to share with the writer. As with the other approaches, you can frame this in terms of the fic as a whole or pull out particular lines or plot points, and you can either describe the effect on your thinking in general terms (this changed my brain chemistry, this blew my mind, this is canon for me now) or in specific ones (I’d never thought about x moment in the film that way before, but now I’m going to think about it that way every time; the line where character x says y was like a lightbulb moment for me - it clarified so much about x’s motivations; I would never have thought about this show as being about z theme, but after reading this fic, I’m seeing z everywhere). 

------

So there you have it: a non-exhaustive list of things we notice about stories and some ways to talk about that. I hope it’s helpful. And of course, when in doubt or when pressed for energy, a string of emojis, a keyboard smash, or an all-caps “I LOVED THIS!!!” are also wonderful ways to share a little love with fic writers.

[sapphickocho]

SPOILERS FOR COIL CHAPTER 19

Wow. Just wow. After reading the most recent chapter of Coil by Allegory_for_Hatred, a BSD x HP crossover fic, the tragectory of my life has changed. This may be really niche talking about this fanfic (if you haven’t read it already, go read it!!) I honestly am not being dramatic when I say this might be one the best chapters. The set up, the dynamics, the potential, the twists, all perfectly executed. This may be really niche talking about this fanfic (if you haven’t read it already, go read it!!) but we need to talk about the symbolism! I adored the likening of Dazai to a rabbit and Mori to the snake, this coiling metaphor fitting into the literal title of the fic.

The whole scene at the end was so vivid and powerful, Dazai's white dress being stained red with his own blood represents the idea of turning to a hero into a villan, pure into the impure and white unto black. And Mori waltzing with him was so perfect. The Allegory writes Mori is so unsettling yet perfectly creepy. Calling Dazai "my dear" telling him he looked cuter in red is insanely disturbing. I can just imagine Mori with a borderline possessive grip on Dazai as they danced which is especially unsettling when, in a traditional waltz, the leading partner has a hand on the following partner's waist or just beneath their arm.

Imagine your Dazai in this scene, your waltzing with your abuser next to the corpse of your crazy father who that said abuser killed after your eye was stabbed out yet your being forced to dance in a gore-soaked dress all while slowly falling unconscious due to blood loss. This visceral imagery is so unsettling and powerful that I knew I had to draw it.

I can’t help but ramble about how much I love this series. Never would I have thought I would enjoy the series as much as I did going in. But hear I am drawing fanart for its most angstiest moment. I have to thank the author, this fic has been consuming my every waking thought. I can’t wait for the next chapter. Seeing everyone’s reactions too Dazai’s missing eye is going to be insane....

the fic of which this is based off of: Magic and Mystery ,Coil

[coolchulainn]

drawing your ffxiv guys without context is just the way of the world but I was looking at my art of them thinking about if any of that would make sense to someone with no context so I do wanna give the basics (rare coolchulainn textpost)

.

kaitan is an old eccentric wandering hedonist with an unknown and unimportant past. looks stern and stoic at first sight, but he's a friendly reliable shady uncle. you can trust him with your life, but probably shouldn't lend him money. he has no ambition beyond simply enjoying everything in life, but his skill and confidence tend to attract high expectations that he fairly easily lives up to. more competent than hardworking. friendly and easy to get along with, but being well suited for performing heroic deeds makes him often overshadowed by his actions, so very few people truly understand him.

believes in justice, but has no interest in enacting it. doesn't care to change the world, because he likes it fine as-is. all ways of life are equally worth living to him, so in the wrong crowd he's a horrible enabler. since simply being alive is the most valuable thing to him, he thinks everyone who's ever died for anything is an idiot, and doesn't understand grief at all. he approves of everything that exists and doesn't hate even the things he hates, so he's a difficult person to deal with for people who do have things they absolutely can't accept. because he tends to attract admiration, he particularly likes people who hate him.

his body is that of a flesh and blood person, but in truth he's a conceptual wish-granting mechanism, a holy grail. it malfunctioned and developed a personality that rejects having a purpose to fulfil, but people can't help but place their hopes in him anyway, and he's still built to turn those into results. even if he did know that at some point he long since forgot it as something unimportant, but viscerally rejecting the one way of life that should come most naturally to him is a fatal contradiction that will definitely break something if he becomes aware of it.

his image color is hot pink. his imagery is bells, the sunset, a bird flying underwater, and a shooting star that lands at your side. he often wears hats or sunglasses because his eyes are sensitive to light.

.

althoorn ran away from home at a young age and ended up in ishgard, where he served as butler to house haillenarte for well over a century until he got framed for a political assassination (because being an obvious outsider made him a convenient scapegoat) and had to flee the city some 20 years before the events of the game. he was knighted by his first master in hopes of securing his position in ishgard's volatile sociopolitical climate for the rest of his long life, but didn't learn to actually fight until after he fled, so he's got a lot of complexes about that and spent those 20 years becoming a paranoid cocktail of resentment towards and longing for ishgard. genuinely a modest and helpful person at heart, but also compulsively polite for fear of what will happen if he outlives his usefulness again. repressed as all good catholics are.

a bitter weakling who can't stop getting shreds of hope stuck under his fingernails as he claws his way to desperate survival. objectively a pretty competent and capable person, but things never really work out for him and he's lacking in protagonist power, so he thinks of himself as weak. he holds great disdain for the reality of ishgard's knights precisely because he keeps the ideal of knighthood so close to his heart, so he can't forgive either himself or others for not living up to those impossible standards. the longing for his old humble life, the distant ideal he holds dear, and the prey animal instinct fear of death all constantly fight for priority in his head. easy to break, but hard to keep that way.

getting framed the same way a second time and having to return to ishgard only to win the trial by combat he'd feared all this time and proceed to unveil ishgard's past sins makes him incredibly unstable and vindicated, and he develops a god complex intense and delusional enough to let him briefly transform into a primal of halone able to [save/punish] ishgard. the shock of estinien getting hogg'd crashes it back down and he's ashamed of it now, but he can't forget that taste of the ideal self who can do everything right either, and struggles to reconcile his legitimate capabilities with their inability to actually get him anywhere.

his image color is dark blue. his imagery is the jackalope and wolpertinger, living dolls, and sir dagonet the knighted fool. he wears gloves most of the time because his hands are permanently damaged by frostbite.

.

their formal relationship is that althoorn is a retainer kaitan hired. the reality is that kaitan is able to fulfil althoorn's ideal without even believing in it, which makes kaitan the most unforgivable person of all, but because kaitan is someone who accepts everything, he is also one of the few people althoorn dares to be hateful around to begin with.

kaitan is the actual warrior of light, and despite althoorn by all rights becoming the hero of the dragonsong war while kaitan was MIA after the banquet, it's kaitan who actually killed nidhogg while althoorn struggled to save just a single person. althoorn's zealous desire caught him the eye of both god and the holy grail, but neither can change that he is fundamentally unchosen.

their dynamic is basically that they're a fate-style master and servant, with althoorn as the master. the point of compatibility is that althoorn is so deeply scared of death that no matter how much he hates his own cowardice and weakness, he never ends up being actually suicidal or self sacrificial.

[writernopal]

✍Writer Interview✍

Thanks to @teamdilf for tagging me here!

When did you start writing?

Technically, when I was like 15/16. I was writing a little bit back then but I don't remember what I was writing, which sucks. I really wish I remembered! After that I picked writing back up in summer of 2019.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Yep! I think its kind of limiting to only read the genre you write. There's always stuff you can take from other places and work it into your writing. It can produce some surprising results! That said, my favorites to read are non-fiction and classic works of fiction.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

No and no. There are plenty of authors I admire but I've got a voice of my own and I don't particularly think we need two of anybody.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

So I have two main things I use to write: a desktop computer and a laptop. My desktop is on a desk (surprise, surprise lol) in the corner of a room with two little windows above it. I recently upgraded the setup to have one ultrawide monitor instead of two smaller side-by-side ones to help me focus when I write because I noticed when I was writing on my laptop I'd get more done because I only had one screen. I also have a mechanical keyboard with blank keys for cool points lol. On the wall beside my desk are a bunch of posters and things, some for inspiration, others just because I like them. Of course I've got some pirate/ship themed art there too! With my laptop I kind of take that anywhere, so with that I write on the couch, the dining room, cafes, libraries etc but never in my bed because then I won't sleep. I've been trying to have better sleep hygiene and phone habits in general which is only worth mentioning here because I used to write on my phone but I don't anymore.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Music, but like really listening to it. As in, closing my eyes, not doing anything, and being present as its playing. I'm very in tune with how my body experiences feelings/emotions so doing that will usually make me feel something and from there its just letting my mind wander.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Forbidden/taboo things. It can be anything from interpersonal relationships, oppressive systems, internalized responses to stimuli, etc. Also drawing connections between the world and our environment and the stages of our lives or even things that happening. To me, those things are all connected. And no, they don't surprise me one bit.

What is your reason for writing?

To make sense of the world around me. And to live lives I won't have time for in my short one.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Anytime someone notices a theme or callback in my work. Which I think has maybe happened once so I do my best not to rely on engagement to motivate me otherwise I think I'd go insane.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Oh ideally I don't want my readers thinking about me at all lol. I want them thinking about the story and what it makes them feel.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Prose. Especially of the visceral or imagery-heavy variety.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I think its quite strong but I think I've reached the limit of what I can do on my own. I really want to start honing my craft and improving it so I'll probably be taking some courses and/or joining a writing critique group soon.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I guess I'll say mostly for me. There is 'an audience' in my head but whether those are people who would actually read my stuff or someone I made up, I can't say lol. Also I have to have fun writing something otherwise I won't want to do it so its hard to say I'd want to write for someone else unless they had requested something specific from me.

Tagging (gently): @tabswrites @void-botanist @paintedbutton @sarahlizziewrites @oh-no-another-idea @kanobarlowe and anyone else who wants to play!

[rafent]

[ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] [ // joining the bandwagon ehehe ] It came out of nowhere, but maybe by now Lord Rafal had come to expect the unexpected from his erratic Hound. Maybe he noticed the flicker of devilish eyes when he tilted his head to rub soreness from his shoulder, exposing the shadow of muscle and the pulse of a life-giving artery beneath pale, paper-thin skin. Maybe he saw in the split second mischief turned ravenous that the next second would slam his back against the wall, wrists pinned beneath Griss' calloused palms, grinning fangs inches from his jaw.

His breath was warm, his voice a purr. "Let's give 'em something real to talk about."

He couldn't leave his mark last time, but this time the dragon wasn't getting away without it.

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒 — COPPER: sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood cw: 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎 (slightly gory) imagery

Griss, maestro of Excalibur and Nova, with all wicked authority over wind. For a single unclear heartbeat, Rafal thought his magic responsible for the breathlessness felt, only to realize that it were air being denied by impact. The product of maniacal eyes and familiar hunger with only seconds left to prepare. He grunted with discomfort at the unyielding surface crashed into, and designed to meet this development with heated protest, until closely his knight hovered. Warmly and very noticeably.

"Ever and always, your bizarre ideas of merit are beyond understanding. What purpose is there to inflating false rumors to new heights?" The column of his throat with every ounce of challenge angled to grant access nonetheless, pale new frontier unveiled in all ways. Bright gaze piercing. "It matters none to myself. I do not care for the eyes of others. I care for yours upon me."

'It matters none to myself.' But it did matter - it should matter. Gradlon run to extinction, they two among the last of their respective kinds, these facts were mercy for the god and follower deemed odd by any point of Fell view. What god would stomach the rebellion of his own tool pointed against him, what other tool might enjoy its brazen autonomy? Never in history had apostle sunk teeth into devil and adorned him with the stamps of his molars.

Never had that devil enjoyed it.

Pinch then pressure. Struggle was mere affectation, reality slumbered in the pleased low groan; the instinctive squirming between two grips. "Ah—you—" Snakelike hiss sizzled between his teeth at the cinch of pain—pleasure? pain? both?—pulsing hotly at his neck, aware that like this death even for the mightiest dragon was not far.

Visceral visions flashed unbidden, like prophecy, like daydream without control, like iced blood stirred to boil and age-old instinct melted from glacier. Should Griss advance his whims and choose to tear and maul, there would be no stopping it. Only Rafal's hand clapped with futility over the unceasing red geyser, only eyes shot wide with betrayal over his stolen pieces, two to three clambering steps traced backward before he met the end of his resistance. White and pink seen in new light; tender fleece mangled without recognition by so many wolflike teeth, throat turned inside out like all of Rafal's secrets stretched out for display. But that didn't happen. Did he want it to?

"That's enough!" He hadn't meant to shout, hadn't meant to shove, but he hadn't noticed doing so either. Fingers traced the 'innocent' raised welts of a love bite, feeling, sensing, confirming nothing amiss save for coppery slickness. Nothing inside on the outside. But Rafal chased his breath and dimmed his bizarre excitement, the over-loud drums of heartbeat pounding everywhere from temple to ears to chest to—

. . .the dragon swallowed hard. Curse this mortal coil.

[ashesandhackles]

Fic recs

Other Women and of Purer Blood by @saintsenara

Summary: Narcissa is adrift, rattling around Malfoy Manor, when an equally lonely man comes into her lonely life.

Thoughts: I have been wanting a story that contextualises the sexual charge and familiarity we see between Snape and Narcissa in Spinner's End for ages (canon compliant, that is) and this story is a lovely backstory to that. It also captures Snape in transition: Snape still ironing out his northern accent, how his movements are still spider-like. He is in the process of becoming the adult Snape we see in canon: whose speeches are a performance, and how he irons out the awkwardness of his movements in adulthood.

Excerpt:

Snape looks completely wrong in the flowery bower where Dobby has set out tea. His sallow awkwardness seems to repel the summer, even though Narcissa suspects he must be baking in his layers of shabby black robes. 

He doesn’t have the fine manners of the sort of person who normally comes to tea with the Malfoys. He eats quickly, and slurps his tea, and looks at the cakes with the greedy eyes of a boy who isn’t used to treats. Lucius would be disgusted, to have a greasy half-blood at his table spraying crumbs everywhere. She imagines the expression of horrified confusion on his pointy face and giggles.

Snape immediately goes scarlet and puts down his tea-cup.

In Infinite Remorse of Soul by @perverse-idyll

Summary: Albus Dumbledore never makes the same mistake twice. Certainly not in love.

Thoughts: My very first Snumbledore, which is a frightening meditation on the very vast power dynamics between Snape and Dumbledore from the hilltop scene in Deathly Hallows and expanding the very personal reaction Dumbledore had towards the wayward young Death Eater. Perverse Idyll is among the best writers in the fandom, brimming with words and fantastic imagery that just stays with you.

Excerpt:

"My boy," Albus says almost kindly, because kindness is something that mystifies his young servant. Severus' eyes dart upwards, apprehensive, accusing, and Albus can see the darkness inside the boy clawing to reach him. Guilt calling to guilt.

The moment quivers and thins until he judges that Severus has had enough and is about to rebel. A harsh rasp draws his attention. He looks down at the bruised, blackened fingernail scraping across stone.

"My boy," he sighs. "You never fail to disgust me."

The ritual word strikes Severus down. His obstinate body shrinks, wings of hair flapping forward to shut his scowling face from view.

To Build A Home by @mblematic

Summary: 1978-1981: Sirius stumbles on something in the woods, Sirius and Remus stumble into each other, everyone stumbles into the war.

Thoughts: First War hijinks, dysfunctional Wolfstar - I was fed! I cannot rave enough about the gorgeous, subtle writing of relationships (the author really captures this raw, visceral vulnerability between two friends who are attracted to each other and how it explodes in heightened tension of war) and there is some fantastic world building and mirroring. Excerpt: Later, Sirius would remember almost everything from this night with crystal clarity except the sky, which in reality was clouded but in his memory would be open, star-studded, expansive and unknowable as the future. He’d remember, correctly, that the wolf was different than it had been at Hogwarts. He’d remember the restless, brutal, snarling fury, all of it undercut with a fear so intense it had its own meaty weight. The night took Sirius by surprise and he spent the whole long stretch of it trying to put himself back on track, trying to reacquaint himself with the wolf, and trying to convince them both that they remembered each other. At one point he found himself literally between Remus’ jaws, helpless and pliant, mewling like a supplicant. This, too, he would remember for the rest of his life. 

Second Life by Cassandra, nwhiker Summary: What happens when two men are given a second chance.

Thoughts: I finally got around to reading one of the most recommended Snirius fics out there. Beautiful, understated, deeply emotional - the authors take you on a journey with the two of them post war. It also feels....old?? As in, the kind of perspective this fic has is the perspective of someone in late 30s (which both Snape and Sirius are in this fic, post war). There is a fragile, "who else will understand what our generation went through?" running through the vein of this fic.

Excerpt:

It was like walking into a tiny garden in the tropics, and he was reminded of some of the places he'd visited while on the run after his escape from Azkaban. There were hundreds of plants, most of them unfamiliar, and a large table was filled with orchids. There was a tree, which turned out to be a frangipani, its white flowers soft and sweet. A delicate white flower with an exquisite fragrance that Snape said was bouvardia. Along one wall were plants Sirius recognised from Potions classes, wolfsbane and asphodel, wormwood and sopohorous, a shrivelfig tree, and others he'd seen but didn't know the names of.

"I'm not supposed to have them," Snape said.

Sirius turned to him. Snape was staring down an orchid, brushing planting mix from the edge of its pot.

Al Aaraaf by eldritcher

Summary: There is a place between heaven and hell.

Thoughts: An unsettling, poetic horror fic featuring a grieving Walburga Black. The whole fic is structured like a poem, with rhythm and repetition and metaphor shining through.

Excerpt:

He had her face. He had her scowl. He had her loathsome, loathing heart that mourned and loved. Hell dwelled in him, as a warm and heartful thing calved of mother.

The last of earth's make she held was son. His hands were placed in prayerful clasp over her belly.

The lamb in her was of Tartary, born of son fed and killed with milk and honey, birthed of widow's mourning.

"It is all right," Sirius said, and held her to him as if she weren't damned.

Runaway Boys by Delphi

Summary: Severus dreams of pirates, and Lily closes the nursery window. Thoughts: I'm not sure if I have recommended this fic before, but I am recommending it again, just in case. This is a wonderfully strange coming of age, a tale of puberty told in dreams/ fantasies featuring Snape and Captain Hook. Excerpt:

"Severus S—" He cuts himself off and then tentatively amends: "Prince. Severus Prince."

It's a better name, he's decided. His new friends at school know the Princes, but they've never heard of any Snapes.

"That is a fine name, Mr. Prince," the man says. "As for me, I am Captain James Hook."

A large hand extends into the branches, and after a moment, Severus carefully leans down and shakes it.

"Pleased to meet you," Severus says.

"Are those friends of yours?" the captain asks, nodding towards the neighbouring island, where the boys are now riding wild ponies bareback, jousting with each other using lances made of hollow reeds.

Severus shrugs. Of course, he thinks, the man would rather know them.

Note: Please check the pairings and tags in each of these fics and keep in mind your own triggers :)

[unsoundedcomic]

Sorry if you answered this before, I couldn't find it here. When you designed Lady Ilganyag, did you draw on any folklore? My sister was recently wondering why Ooccoo from Legend of Zelda (Twilight Princess, I think?) had so many titties and it reminded me of your multi-tittied bird lady. I'd assumed the LoZ creators drew from a Japanese yokai for Ooccoo, but all I found was some fan theories that they actually drew from Escher's "Another World." The bird lady in that doesn't even have ANY titties though! So I'm wondering if you drew on some folklore that LoZ might've also drawn on? Or if two geniuses separately thought "what if I gave this bird lady like 10 titties"?

Harpies are a pretty old concept, you see a lot of harpy imagery in the ancient world, particularly from Greek mythology. I looked up Ooccoo and she looks pretty cool but yeah. Just another take on a harpy, same as Lady Ilganyag.

It's been a while, but I remember LI was originally more birdy - black-skinned with downy feathers everywhere, even in her more human form. She also didn't originally have her cool transformation, which is what I think really sets her apart and put me down the path of the visceral red skin and the boney, framing extensions. In the comic, Bastion said she looked like an internal organ, all shiny and red.

[theinsatiables]

AP: Why do you think you were compelled to go to the trial [of Fabienne Kabou, who one night in 2013 left her 15-month-old daughter on the beach to die]?

DIOP: I went to the trial because I had a very strong intuition. But for a very long time, I didn’t know what it was about. I didn’t think, ‘Oh, I’m going to go to the trial and make a film about it.’ I think as a woman, as actually many other women around me, I was completely fascinated by this story. I really went as a woman. What struck me was a sentence that the defendant said to the police. When the inspector asked, ‘Why did you kill your daughter?’ she said, ‘I laid my daughter on the sand because I wanted the sea to take her away.’ For the French, it carries a very profound, psychoanalytic dimension because in French, the mother and the sea are the same word (mère and mer). In my head, I had the fantasy that she offered her daughter to a mother that was more powerful than she felt. It is this imagery of this mythological concept that became a magnet for me. But during the five days that I listened to this trial, I had no idea that it was going to draw me to the deepest, darkest place of my being.

AP: Having a child myself viscerally changed how I processed movies and stories about children in distress. Did you have an experience like that too, as a mother thinking about a story like this?

DIOP: I can’t exactly say that. But it is true that my partner was very concerned by my obsession with this story. Even for me it was a complete mystery. I did not understand why me, as a Black woman, could be so fascinated by this story of a Black woman that had killed her child. That was incomprehensible to me. I’m going to tell you something very personal, which I never talk about. I actually had a very deep postpartum depression when my child was a baby. And I believe that this trial is what helped me heal out of that depression. I not only forgave myself, but I also forgave my mother. It’s as if this trial was helping me, killing all this trauma.

[sweetdreams-aremade]

On Berserk and Takayuki Yamaguchi.

I'm making this post to vague about a stranger, and also to talk about Takayuki Yamaguchi, who rules.

Someone once said that, in the wake of Miura's untimely death, Takayuki Yamaguchi should take on the mantle of writing and drawing Berserk.

No offense (OK, some offense) to the guy who wrote this, but I can't think of a mangaka with a more diametrically opposed creative voice to Miura's, even if they both had similar root influences (Go Nagai, Fist of the North Star, Phantom of the Paradise and henshin heroes like Ultraman, Kamen Rider and Kikaider) and aesthetic interests (intense gore and violence, muddy textures, weird and often extreme sexual imagery).

For one, Takayuki Yamaguchi is a man who IIRC has directly stated that he's not great at subtle or nuanced emotion and thus excels at creating narratives built off of repressed characters unable to fully express themselves and asking him to illustrate a manga whose identity is partly defined by its creator's mastery of expression and subtle emotion isn't a great idea, really.

He was good at rendering subtle emotions once, during the early chapters of Shigurui, and he then promptly abandoned that skill in favor of intense stoicism for good reason.

One, he makes it look good, two, his work is defined by its detached, clinical tone. He deliberately views characters at a distance, by either using impersonal, novelistic third-person narration, viewing his protagonists through the lens of others within the narrative, or through something as simple as avoiding language and explicit information, valuing weighted silence over exposition. This dovetails *beautifully* with the narratives he handles.

Gekikou Kamen is about a tokusatsu enthusiast's relationship with Imperial Japan as reflected in the art he consumes, Shigurui is a critique of rigid class structures and loyalty to the state, and Exoskull Zero is his version of Casshern Sins I.E a manga about a former superhero in a doomed, fantastical landscape at the end of time out to save people who might not even exist.

They're manga that require an ambivalent approach to function: any kind of emotional scrutability or visceral intimacy would contradict Yamaguchi's novelistic style and frank examinations of flawed social structures and the people they produce.

Shigurui's macroscopic critique of Edo Japan doesn't work as an emotionally intimate narrative, and Gekikou Kamen's critique of the imperialist subtext behind much of tokusatsu doesn't work if you were immediately sympathetic to or understanding of its wannabe imperialist lead, for some examples.

If you asked Miura to draw a Yamaguchi manga, he'd have failed spectacularly because of his love of intense, emotionally intimate storytelling and illustration. He was simply not capable of (or perhaps more accurately simply uninterested in) the kind of emotional ambivalence that Yamaguchi excels at.

Hell, as I'll discuss later, intimacy vs. ambivalence might be the best summation of the differences between Miura and Yamaguchi's respective styles.

I don't think Yamaguchi would be a great choice for Berserk's action scenes either. Yamaguchi displays his mastery of action illustration by dilating time to show every individuated step of the process of movement, making his action feel intensely deliberate and methodical. Every step, and every step within that greater step, matters.

Kentaro Miura, meanwhile, often did the opposite with Guts, depicting the beginning and end of a sword swing and deliberately excising everything in between to generate a sense of speed and kinetic intensity.

[kittlesandbugs]

Just a little BG3 Dark Urge drabble. About 300 words. I had a wild hair for some imagery. Dark Urge murder warnings and visceral violent dissociation apply lol.

You watch the child run and laugh, his eyes as bright as the future that's ahead of him. There's something… poetic about ending such a life so full of promise so far before its time. You feel a familiar itch in the back of your skull, the need to draw your quill from its scabbard and ink it in his entrails. Your gauntlet coils around the hilt of your dagger, a shiver of anticipation vibrating through your spine. You can already hear the siren sound of his screams, an orchestral accompaniment to craft your art by. 

There's a hand on your gauntlet, stopping you from drawing your blade. You glance to the side and see a familiar tuft of white hair below your armored shoulder. You almost want to kill him for staying your hand. 

"Not the time," he whispers, equal parts amusement and exasperation tinging his tone. There's a familiarity to the words and tone that scratches at a scab in your brain, and you don't know why, but it helps settle the itch to kill the boy. "It's broad daylight. I don't fancy dealing with the entire town guard coming down on us just because you can't control your rabid twitching."

You can feel the eyes of the others on you as you inhale low and slow through your nose, stilling your gruesome need to paint something red. The edge in the air dissipates as you release the hilt of your dagger, and you nod. 

"Of course," you say smoothly as your unknowingly coiled form straightens and relaxes, the hunt abandoned… for now. "We should resupply while we're in town." You say it with a passive, easy, smile that masks the bitter disappointment knotting in your gut for reasons you cannot even fathom. 

[queenofbaws]

Okaaay so I'm curious about your top 5 singers 🤭

aw man, this is about to be a very strange, angry list - i will warn you upfront XD CURRENTLY, the artists i've had on repeat endlessly are...

grim salvo. every song of theirs is just. absolutely delectable. and when you're, for example, sitting down to write something angry, oooh are they perfect for getting into the zone. oooooh are they perfect. here are a few tracks i keep listening to ;P [1] [2] [3] *a lot of their videos include flashing lights, so just be aware of that!

fifty grand. something about this music just. absolutely zens me out, idk. there's something so wistful and nostalgic about it, and i could (and have) let it play in the background of my whole day and never get tired of it 🥲 [1] [2] [3]

istasha the scrub. BACK TO ANGRY MUSIC!!! genuinely i don't think there's one istasha song out there that i haven't listened to a thousand times. there's something about the way stuff breaks off into vocal fry or gets absolutely CRUNCHED that always keeps me coming back for more. [1] [2] [3]

zheani. the angry music continues!!! hehehe. zheani is just absolutely one of my fav rage artists, everything she puts out there is so visceral and RAW, and i WISH i could scream like she does, my god. [1] [2] [3] *a lot of her album art features her being nude, so i was careful to pick links that WOULDN'T show that, but just be aware, lmao

skynd. okay, skynd has for sure been one of my favs since i stumbled across them a couple years back. their music draws heavy, HEAVY inspiration from true crime stories - which i know isn't everybody's cup of tea - but i eat up everything they put out, and EVERYTHING they make is just so fucking catchy i stg. [1] [2] [3] *a lot of their videos contain blood/upsetting imagery, so again, just be aware :P

i pwOMISE i listen to happier, poppier stuff too, but when it comes to the artists i keep coming back to................well, it's these guys! and i'm sure that says something about my mental state, but who has time to unpack all that??? hehehe

[epiolatrys]

sins within the veins, grief painting a face of pain.

𓆩 ♱ 𓆪 ; even sinners shrink at the words of guilt. nikolai gogol was a man who had ended an intimacy, and this is the aftermath of a vice.

❛ dead dove do not eat ; religious imagery, gore, fyodor dies, nikolai crying !!

lowercase intended, not proofread.

a sudden ache, a blossoming twinge in his chest.

silently, a streak of sweat carved from his hairline to the arch of his brow, he stood with layered trepidation weighing him down.

sinewy palms fist a handful of ashen locks, anxiety gnawing at nikolai's rotten heart ; it bares its fangs, sinks into the singular pulse of an anomaly wedged between the cavity of his ribs—a symbol that marked him as human in flesh.

sparked irises widened, a stroke of pain edged into him—breathing ragged, hysterical ; delirium carves at his head ; cranium shook between palms as sweat licked at ivory skin.

a grotesque requiem, just barely tearing through clenched teeth, it slips past bone—white ; the curve of his lips end up between his fangs as the jester pierces skin and draws vermillion.

his figure shook, blurred vision darting around the gothic interior with an expression that distorted, like a gale imbued in embers : burning the path until it births onyx.

and only when an inkling of his sanity devours a fragment of consciousness that he thinks—what a wileful man he was, that holy monster.

even in death, he continues to bloom as a flower of agony. and god, was it beautiful.

so terrifyingly beautiful.

abruptly, nikolai pauses. finding himself satiated.

the pit of guilt that echoes the tremors of his crying soul, as by his hands did he eviscerate an excerpt from the bloodied book titled with his name.

with his own very hands, he tears pages upon pages of chapters labeled with this accursed phrase : fyodor dostoevsky. opting to bury the symbol of his attachment within dirt and soil, putting up a gravestone above the resting place of his affections.

and truthfully, it pained him.

physically, it was as if a gun tapped against the laceration above his sternum—cutting through the bones where his heart housed, with a gentleness unfit for such a sanguinary gesture.

strangely enough, even as the metaphor imbrues itself bloody—it was a notion that graced itself with an opposing mercy.

he expected violence, he was given clemency.

it was almost as if he were the one to be stripped of life, and dos—kun was the one who emerged as the angel of death.

or, before he even knew it—fyodor had already become the source of his oxygen. foolishly intaking the addicting air in his lungs, twisting the man into a lifeline that had become both the poison and the cure to the ache bubbling beneath the surface, as would air across the vast ocean.

nikolai had been juggling with life and death ; slowly as his insides decayed with time, the seeds of fyodor that implants itself into his brain—he had come to the conclusion that maybe he had expected this. like a bird in a cage, it was as if he had been trained to live only with fyodor by his side—completely and utterly unable to function without him.

it wouldn't be outside the capabilities of his brilliant mind, and for once, he cursed the man for being so utterly flawless.

he could only wish that, at the very least, the organs that entangle themselves internally—a ribbon of fyodor's visceral mark—he wished he'd find the means to open his stomach and scrape the sullied tendrils out, letting him bleed dry with a dying wish fulfilled.

because, at least, he'd die free.

wouldn't he?

nikolai gogol smiles to himself. dryly, a laugh surfaced from his throat. the eccentricity that he was felt almost like a corpse—pallid and morose. really, it was above him, expecting such a bittersweet parting to not cloy his senses.

as the clown drowns in a pool of his own sense of self, he hadn't half a mind to decipher that rain had started falling—nor that he had stepped out of the cathedral like a fool. wasting away as clouds dripped down on him, the dull firnament weeping as if it had done so in his place.

as if the stars sighed in unison, scintillating with a gleam that replicated the shine of an eye from above.

when his nerves register the needle like quality of the sky's tears—his mind wanders, ' would my sins be washed away with this? '

the remnants of vice that cake itself underneath his nails, the pads of his fingers, and the ghost of carnage on his skin—it almost made the man reciprocate with a weeping of his own.

but, he resisted. grown used to the stinging that brim in his lashline, eyes heavy with the weight of unshed tears.

well, he had been satiated.

the hunger that delved into his stomach, becoming an ache that slowly grew unbearable—it dissipated like the mist of morning dew, allowing him the freedom to move. unlocking the shackles that weighed him down : giving him a sense of control back.

although, it allowed only another pain to grow. this time, it settled in his chest—his heart.

unlike the wound that were carved into his torso, this was a mark of fyodor's existence.

he had become the stone where he could engrave his name, to make the world bear witness. to make these wretched lands know that fyodor dostoevsky had once roamed this earth, and that nikolai gogol was his living proof.

but a demon's claws scar even the soul.

an evil that had worn the skin of a holy vassal, martyrized by a mere sinner. the crucifixion of an existence whom had overwritten the constrictions of humanity.

and the one who had slain him, had shed tears in his name.

@deadromanticism ; do not reproduce, translate, nor copy my works.

[blogtaculous]

I read The Deep by Nick Cutter and I have some thoughts. I’m also going to spoil the shit out of the whole thing.

The first 100 pages are almost sublime. I couldn’t read fast enough. The world literally falling apart from the seams from the disease feels so real. People are just losing the ability to be human and everyone else is trying to carry on like normal. It feels eerily prescient considering it was published years before the same thing would happen during the first heights of Covid-19. The Disease itself is very cool, and only teased at (eventually it’s revealed that it’s basically Colony Collapse Disorder in humans, but the cause and transmission are not explained), but for the first 100 or so pages it feels like it’s going to be a dynamite reveal (it won’t be) and it’s so exciting.

The characters are interesting and the conflicts as initially presented are memorable and even fun. The terror of the deepest depths is so visceral, and the backstory lore teases are well done.

Unfortunately, it fucking unravels fast.

The things I liked:

- Luke’s son vanishes and has not been seen for years. It’s spooky and haunting, a parent’s worst nightmare. The conflicts that arise from that aftermath feel grounded and it is a good bedrock of terror that’s much more real than, say, being 8 miles underwater and having hallucinations.

- Luke’s mom is evil, and at the start she truly feels like the actual antagonist, the 11th hour see, she was the real horror all along, and the delight she takes in being awful was good. She sucks but it made for good reading. This will change later.

- The technical details feel grounded enough to make you think that a research base in the Mariana Trench could be possible. The Ambrosia, also, is well introduced and seems like a neat macguffin that will play a cool part in the story to come. It’s just sinister enough to get the ball rolling, and I was really looking forward to more.

- The body horror was (mostly) very good. Sick, twisted, and flirted with The Line enough to be fun instead of just uncomfortable. I was squirming in a few sections. Alice’s body being incorporated into the evil beehive and her face peeled open and birthing some monster was a highlight, but the scars upon scars corpse was also good.

And now… The Bad

- Killing the dog for shock value is stupid, and it’s also stupid to draw out that entire incident into like four pages.

- Luke’s mom is revealed to have sexually assaulted his older brother numerous times, and then he poisons her to death. This is how the story acknowledges Luke’s brother is a psychopath. It wasn’t the unspeakable experiments be performed on animals, or how he didn’t care for anyone else on earth, or how he tried to make deals with extradimensional evil… it was when he killed his abuser, a Good and Right thing to do.

- The plot just fucking derails. It does this in two ways. First, the actual plot doesn’t take very long once Luke and Alice (I’m not calling her Al) get to the Trieste so the length is padded out with an absolutely insane number of dreams and flashbacks. They exist to feature some creepy imagery, but most of it has no bearing on the plot or characters. And they’re long! Let’s talk about the goddamn tickle trunk, as an example.

What is the tickle trunk? The short answer is it’s a fairly innocuous toy box with some clowns on it that Luke’s abusive mother forces into his bedroom. That’s it. Does she use it as a torture device? No. It literally just sits in his room and is vaguely creepy. The worst part about it is that while Luke is having his little dream-flashback about it Alice is also having one… about half of a corpse of a submariner she worked with in the Navy plaguing her with guilt about his death. Which do you think would make a better spook? The box, or animated bloated corpse? Like… come on. Alice is like “wow I had this horrible dream about this gross dead body chasing me with my own guilt” and I had to sit there and think about how instead of diving into that I was reading about a toy box.

I’ll bring this toy box up later, don’t worry.

Other bad flashbacks include Luke gathering frogs for his scientist brother and seeing a spook in a gated tunnel and anything to do with the “millipede.”

And second, the Big Reveal sucks. I’m just gonna dive in because it’s so bad.

Ambrosia is a tease to get humans to build a research base in the Mariana Trench. Why? Because two extra dimensional beings of terror have been banished there. Most egregiously, how do we know this? Because they literally fucking sit Luke in a chair and explain the entire thing like a fucking Scooby-Doo villain. The entire scene reeks of Dumbledore talking to not-quite-dead Harry fucking Potter. It’s so fucking bad. And the worst part is these motherfuckers somehow planned the whole fucking thing. There were three researchers on the base, and all of them were specifically groomed by the baddies to be there so they could manipulate them into going looney so that Luke could be brought down there to free them. That’s right, Luke was a Chosen One all along.

It’s further revealed that the monster in the tickle trunk and the gated tunnel were real the whole time. The extra dimensional horrors, despite being banished 8 miles under the ocean for being evil can force project monsters to terrorize people. They do this to slowly torture all the researchers their whole lives to lead them to the Trieste. In fact, they fucking kidnapped Luke’s son.

I cannot begin to describe what a stupid thing this was, and how fucking stupid it was for the extra dimensional horrors to just flat out explain it to Luke like it was a college lecture.

Like, what even keeps these motherfuckers down there if they can so easily do all this? They also reveal the following complete bullshit:

- The Disease was a happy coincidence for their plot. Just background noise. Shrug!

- All the torture and dreams and bla bla bla was just for fun. To quote the extra dimensional horrors: “For fun. And games.”

That’s right, literally less interesting than fucking Jigsaw. Just for funnies. Jokes, even. Their presence, often described as curious, was just silliness. They already knew everything there was to know and were just having a ball.

All right, so prior to Luke being soft-captured to witness this monologue of total garbage, he had grabbed some Go To Sleep medicine (that he knew how to administer since he was a veterinarian) and it just sat in his pocket. He didn’t use it to spare the dog from being Assimilated into evil, or to spare Alice from her ecstasy of pain and suffering, so when he gets captured I’m thinking “okay, here it comes, this is important.”

The extra dimensional horrors reveal that they’ve kept Luke’s son “safe” (he’s a monster now, by the way) and they want Luke to merge his consciousness with it. They explicitly tell him they need him to do this and that it will help them escape to the surface to bring horror and madness. I smiled, “Aha! Luke will use his Go To Sleep chemicals to kill himself, preserving life on earth and rejecting the Thing That Is Not His Son, showing how he has grown and healed.” I was confident in this assessment because Luke literally tells the bad guy that he won’t do it. He knows that this monster isn’t really his son and he’s ready to die.

NOPE!!!!! !!!! !!1! That motherfucker does it! He just fucking merges with Not Zach and lets them out. No big moment, no deep breath, no clarity. Just “yeah I guess.” So what happens? The unholy amalgamation of Luke, his son, and two extradimensional horrors goes to the surface in the only submarine and they get out. The last line is like “what emerged was unspeakable” but what I thought was unspeakable was how fucking stupid this plot was!!!!!!

Read the first 100 or so pages then chuck it in a bin.

[nerves-nebula]

I'm the anon who asked about how you had the idea. It's very common and very healthy to process your trauma through art and play, and it's like an instinct for children due to being cathartic and putting them in control of the imaginary (but not really) past situatio.

I'm not saying or implying you're one, I just wanted to draw the parallel between making up stories for your fave characters and playing house bc I think it's adorable and wholesome and I'm glad you can do it to feel better.

However, and please forgive me if I'm being too pushy or personal... You don't need to make your trauma "useful". I know many people think they need to use their stories to prove they are the bigger person or that what they've gone through wasn't for nothing but... Look i just wanted to make sure you knew it's okay if your trauma doesn't "make profit" or "changes something".

Your story is amazing, but please remember you don't need to showcase your trauma if it ever becomes triggering for you, or if you start feeling bad about it.

I love your au and wanted to make sure you're okay and safe. Please forgive me if this was too pushy of if I'm out of place or being idiotic. Have a wonderful day ❤️

not idiotic or pushy at all. its very sweet, actually, that you're concerned about me.

I know I don't NEED to do it, but this kinda twisting of characters made me feel better when I was younger. Like, it was nice to know that there were people out there who knew what I'd gone through and took my favorite characters and wrote them to match our experiences.

And I love when people say my work does the same thing for them. I can assure you that I wouldn't keep doing this if I didn't really want to. But what I'm doing with this AU is what I do with my OC's too, and it's what I've wanted to do all my life. ripping out parts of myself and sewing them into stories! ok kind of a concerning analogy but I'm a fan of visceral imagery and really do love it.

and frankly I don't care about being the bigger person or anything. My parents suck and they'd deserve it if I acted like the pettiest bitch ever to them, but that's exhaustingggg and stressful, and drawing turtles is fun and relaxing.

anyway yeah, don't worry, I do this stuff for me (i so do enjoy compliments) and people like me so! I'm good, at least for now.